


an imperfect picture is still just right

by belncaz



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M, Gen, Hidden Talents, art as therapy, artist david wymack, set during The King's Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 22:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11389485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belncaz/pseuds/belncaz
Summary: After Wymack learns Kevin is his son, Kevin leaves to go on vacation with the other Foxes. Here's what I imagine happens on David's end as he grapples with a new part of his identity.





	an imperfect picture is still just right

 Set during spring break of _The King’s Men_ , hope you like it!

an imperfect picture is still just right

* * *

 

David Wymack acknowledged he was many things -  a man with a temper, a coach, perhaps even an advocate for his Foxes. He didn’t consider himself to be an especially good person, but he didn’t lose too much sleep over it. He had not lied to Neil when he’d said he wanted to give them chances nobody else would, and that had resulted in a fairly fluid and negotiated understanding of _normal_. Crises followed his team so frequently that it seemed they wouldn’t have any luck at all if it wasn’t bad. But one role he’d never really considered, was left hanging in the air as Kevin, his son, turned and walked out the door to join Neil on an impromptu vacation. _Father._

Kevin had entered his office just moments after Neil left, and the slightly hunted look on Kevin’s face wasn’t unusual in and of itself, but he’d clearly come here to discuss something and Wymack knew it wasn’t an idea for a new training regimen. In a tradition Wymack had long ago established, he waved Kevin to a seat and gave his complete attention.

“What’s up?” He asked it directly – not wanting Kevin to feel he had to break the silence first when there was clearly something on his mind. David was prepared to wait; Kevin could hold a secret tighter than nearly anyone, with the possible exceptions of Neil or Andrew. When Kevin spoke, it wasn’t what David expected to hear.

“I know who my father is and I want to approach him about it.” Kevin hadn’t quite met his eyes and his voice, strained and halting, should have clued Wymack in.

“Congratulations. What do you need from me to handle this?” It was offered as both flippancy and genuine concern, the careful balance between offering what he could and not encroaching where he wasn’t wanted that was second nature to him slipping into place.

Kevin raised his head a fraction to hold his gaze and Wymack could almost see the words as they left Kevin’s mouth, floating delicately through the room to land with all the impact of a cannon ball.  “It’s you.”

David instinctively started to stand but the raw misery on Kevin’s face stopped him and he sank back down in his chair. He was gripping the edge of his desk with a ferocious strength that had nothing to do with denying Kevin’s words and everything with the awful, fatalistic realization that despite his not knowing, David had let Kevin down and left him to an upbringing that had resulted in peerless talent and nightmare inducing pain.  It went against everything he was not to erupt, David was a creature of lashing out and hardheadedness, but he managed by the barest thread of grace.

Taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling it, David let go of his desk. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Kevin hadn’t known what to expect, but there was a significant part of him that had anticipated denial and Kevin wouldn’t really have blamed him. Having his words accepted didn’t make this all that easier, but he felt a small whisper of relief go through him.

Kevin gave Wymack the truth.  He’d been terrified that the knowledge would cause the Moriyama family to hurt Wymack. He hadn’t known if Wymack would want anything to do with him. He’d been afraid. Kevin was a study of contradictions; he was a self-assured bastard when working with his teammates, but he was far less confident about his value as a person. He hadn’t been raised to see it and even the tentative hope that Wymack might accept him hadn’t taken deep enough root for him to reach out and claim Wymack as his father.

David crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. It shouldn’t be a child’s burden to carry that worry. He knew all his Foxes came from troubled backgrounds of course, but this one felt like it was his fault. He felt a sense of failure sweep through him. Why hadn’t he pushed Kayleigh more about  who Kevin’s father was?  He sent up a silent apology to Kayleigh’s memory for not looking after their son better and he could have sworn he felt a gentle pressure against his face – the echoed weight of a cusped hand he hadn’t felt in decades – communicating absolution, encouragement, and regret all in one before it was gone.

Kevin left soon after, the knowledge that they would be revisiting this topic in the very near future burned into both of their minds. The door closed softly behind Kevin with a click that wasn’t all that audible, but David heard it today as if Kevin had slammed it.

Perhaps Abby had seen Kevin’s expression as he went down the hall. He didn’t stop to speak to her but Abby didn’t need words to know something had happened in the short time Kevin had been in David’s office. She closed her own and knocked briefly on David’s before entering.

Abby saw him still seated, at first all seemed normal. Abby had an advantage over a casual onlooker though. Not only was she trained to see signs of shock and trauma, Abby had seen David in the grips of agony after his hip injury, she’d seen the toll of his work, she’d seen him angry and bitter, relaxed and drunk, fierce and proud, and any number of other emotions over the years. But this, this was unfamiliar. She and David and Betsy had staked claims over these athletes, this fractured, turbulent family that was sometimes so fragile it seemed one dare not breathe for fear of bringing it all tumbling down. David didn’t advertise his own grief over their wounds and baggage, he was always their coach in public – an abrasive support that was always there even if they didn’t know it. But Abby and David had, away from the Foxes’ inquisitive eyes, clutched one another in the aftermath of one crisis or another, their embrace nearly desperate in the futile terror that something else was coming because it seemed something else always did.

He looked at her and Abby knew without words what she needed to do. She reached over his desk and grabbed his phone, taking only a moment to dial Betsy and when she got voicemail, Abby left a quick message that she and David would be at Abby’s place for the foreseeable future.

David lifted his lips in a brief smile that didn’t reach his eyes but obediently began packing up his things and shutting down his office equipment. Soon enough, still not having spoken, they were at Abby’s house.

They sat in the car for a long while, with David staring out of the window as if he didn’t quite recognize their surroundings. She gave him a moment before reaching over to carefully prod his shoulder.

“Go on. It’s all still there for you.”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes holding something like awareness but from very far away. He opened his lips as if to answer but was opening the door and using a key to unlock her front door while she sat still and quiet. Mentally she traced his progress, knowing he’d drop keys and his light jacket in the entryway. He was headed to the attic access, it would take him only moments to get there and she knew he would stay – hours into days if he needed – in the space she’d impulsively given him. She hadn’t regretted it yet.

Wymack’s sanctuary was a pleasantly compact attic studio, something that looked like it should overlook a busy Parisian street rather than belong in South Carolina. It was crammed with canvasses, some blank and others complete, with a few stubborn pieces that were obviously works in progress for good measure. A double bed was shoved into a corner, the fabric that made up the covers and sheets was worn and faded but in soft, cheerful colors that didn’t seem to be Wymack’s style. It was Abby’s. He’d collapsed on this bed more times than he could remember, when the fervency that drove him to create something finally left him exhausted and drained so that he barely had the strength to make it to the bed, but somehow always did. Dormer windows were framed by dainty curtains and hidden blinds he could raise or lower to adjust for the light. Looking around, only he seemed out of place, and somehow that had made it the perfect retreat. He was comfortable here, it wasn’t an Exy field, but there was still something about this cozy little garret that fed that same impulse – to plan, to guide and nurture, and to put hard work into something of his own vision.

Moving almost in a fugue state, Wymack reached to turn on the music in a hidden stereo – an eclectic playlist he’d fashioned at some point beyond his memory, before he grabbed a canvass and a pencil, his hands tracing a pattern that had been in his mind for only moments but was hounding him with an urgency he couldn’t resist. There were harsh, angry slashes and delicate, nearly hopeful curves, the design wouldn’t reveal itself in full until much later. He’d taken up sketching and painting during his rehabilitation, not of his own volition at first but only after a quietly encouraging nurse had suggested he might find it useful for venting his frustrations until he could use his body more completely.

He’d tried it, skeptical and dismissive at first, but oddly enough had kept going. It was a mixed blessing, sometimes the image in his mind seemed to pour out onto the surface as if he were merely a conduit for someone else’s ideas. Other times he would go through draft after draft, feeling an impotent rage that he could not control this aspect of his life either. He’d toss down the pencil or paintbrush in disgust and frustration, sure he was over this phase, before finding himself compelled to go back and try again. He harbored no delusions, he wasn’t going to make a living off this, but being able to create something in the midst of what seemed destruction everywhere else became a necessary part of his life. Besides, these weren't his secrets to share with the world. He would sooner burn the lot than betray the Foxes trust and display them.

Abby didn’t bother him; she’d get her explanations later. She set about making food she knew he would not eat yet and wrapping up chores of her own. There were bills to pay and laundry to do; hearing the faint sounds of David’s music through the ceiling and the occasional thud of his footsteps as he moved was a familiar accompaniment. The attic was one of the few places the Foxes had never ventured and so David’s secret was safe. Her lips kicked up as she imagined their reactions. Abby was willing to bet that incredulity and shock would be a common response.

The sun fell below the horizon and a clingy mugginess came to take its place as the moon made a gradual ascent. It was spring, but the humidity made it feel much warmer; David would need to turn on the fan soon if he intended to work through the night. Abby was just folding the last of her laundry when she registered a sudden stillness in the house. David had cut off his music and he was not pacing. For better or worse he had reached a stopping point. She made her way up the steps to the attic, wondering what she would find this time.

Abby entered without knocking. It was a system set up long ago, when David turned off the music, he had fended off enough of his demons to talk again. She crossed the threshold and took the few steps needed to stand by his side. He hadn’t looked at her yet but Abby knew he was aware of her by the way he shifted over a little to allow her room to see his work.

It was far from finished, but Abby could see from the pencil outlines a general idea of what he was doing. He’d divided the canvass into thirds – the left panel showed Kevin as a Raven with a series of smaller scenes they knew of his time there. The middle panel showed Kevin as Fox; flanked by Neil and Andrew and a wary hope evident in his expression. The right showed David and Kevin staring at each other across the plexiglass of an Exy court. They were in plainclothes and their stances seemed distant in a way not accounted for by a simple physical barrier. David had drawn a replica of his tribal flames along the entire border, from the Raven panel they were harsher and seemed to threaten the subjects he’d drawn. They raced across the bottom, already moving from a red so dark it nearly was black to a red tinted with the orange of the Foxes colors and in the last section they held traces of blue.

Abby stared at it thoughtfully for a moment before she glanced around the room. Even without the benefit of daylight, the room was lit by a series of small lamps and they illuminated enough of the space to see his prior works. Most of the time, he painted the Foxes. The pain they endured and the triumphs they celebrated – almost everything he knew of them was captured in some way in the thick layers of paint he’d used. Rainbow-edged hair framed a face glancing down at hands that held both a bible and a knife showed Renee kneeling over someone – whether it was in prayer or victory was anyone’s guess. Allison’s platinum curls were tossed over a shoulder that was turned away from a nameless corporation with one foot encased in a dangerous stiletto and the other in an Exy cleat. Dan was shown striding confidently into battle on the Exy field but thought clouds above her head swirled with chaotic images of her past and relationships with her teammates and the media.

The men on the team hadn’t escaped David’s eye either. Seth was shown as if he had had a bifurcated body – one half angry and sullen, a bottle of pills in one hand while the other side held something approaching gentleness as his hand was clasped by another –  the pristinely manicured nails giving a clue as to its owner. Nicky was a juggler; each ball held a face of a teammate while the background showed an explosion of light with a patient, kind face waiting for him with a smile on sculpted lips. Matt’s track marks grew flowers and his fist was poised in a punching motion; his target was unclear. The twins sat posed on facing cliffs with a sea between them, the water roiling with legendary monsters waiting for them to fall in. Even Neil was here, a sly smile in place as he held one finger to his lips and a discarded trail of ID cards and violence swirled behind him.

Wymack’s style wasn’t perfect. He’d made tremendous improvement from when he’d first started, but his subject matter wasn’t one of neat, clean ideas either – his execution of them, ragged and defiant at times, was appropriate. A man of few words, he used the paintings to try and relieve some of his own grief at the torment they all carried. It didn't always work, but Abby knew that most of the time, it afforded David some peace to keep going, even if just for a short while.

“What happened, David?” She rarely commented on his work, it wasn’t needed. He wasn’t looking for praise or criticism; it was simply a way to drive out the heavy burden of keeping all their secrets. He would never show these to anyone else, but as their nurse, Abby had put the Foxes back together time and again, she knew of some of their struggles. Those she didn't, she didn't ask about.

“Kevin’s my son.” It was hollow and filled with self-loathing. Intellectually, David was aware it wasn’t his fault he hadn't known; yet there was a mocking internal voice that whispered why hadn’t he pushed the issue. He didn’t have an answer. But knowing that Kayleigh had lied to him and as a result, he hadn’t fought to protect Kevin made him feel like a hypocrite.

Abby reached out to wrap an arm through David’s, leaning against him in a show of support. “He told you today then.” Not a question, but a statement of understanding.

Wymack nodded. “As his coach, I can’t fault him for his ability to subdue any emotional attachment to me. As his father…well, that’s less clear.”

She knew what he meant. David’s childhood hadn’t been the most stable, it was part of the reason he had managed to get this far with the Foxes – their burdens weren’t the same as his, but there was an awareness and recognition of what the world was really like that they all shared. He hadn’t particularly wanted children and Kevin was an adult now anyway. But Wymack’s gruffness wasn’t all he had to offer and Abby had no doubt he would have been a fantastic father to Kevin if he’d been given the opportunity. He was flawed and far from perfect, but no child really needed perfect. It would have been enough.

Abby looked back at the work he’d started for Kevin. It was the first one David had done with Kevin as the main focus. Kevin had appeared in others, dominating whatever part of the picture he was placed. Abby had wondered when David would get to it, knowing David carried more of Kevin’s secrets than she was privy to.

“He chose you, David. In the end, he did. Kevin could have left us after he healed yet he wanted to stay. His reasons are complicated but at least a part of it is that he trusts the team you’ve put together and by extension, you. He didn’t have to give up on Exy because you understood he could come back to it;  you helped save him, David. It’s not what you two should have had, but it’s not meaningless.” She let go of David’s arm and pointed to the panel that showed them facing one another. “You should redo this part. Knowing he’s your son shouldn’t add distance. It’s not going to be easy, but when has anything with this team been easy?” It was offered with a smile as she turned back to face him.

Wymack rubbed a hand tiredly over his eyes and laughed a little. “You think I’m being a drama queen, Abby?”

She shrugged, a little bit of humor glinting in her eyes. “I’d never say something like that. It was a big thing to find out, but when has David Wymack let anything get in the way of his job or looking over his Foxes? You’re not suddenly going to pamper Kevin – neither of you could stomach that. But it doesn’t mean you have to be cold to him either. Just go slow. You’ll figure it out eventually.” She glanced at the clock. “Time for bed, David. They’re all together and safe for the moment. You don’t have to have an answer for this right now.”

He nodded and drew her close, wrapping her in a hug that was part affection, part need, and a final part relief. Abby wasn’t accusing him of failure, she didn’t see him differently. It was a start. They made their way to the bed, flicking off the lamps as they went. They were still in the clothes they’d worn that day and collapsed onto the mattress in a tired pile. Sleep came more quickly than either of them anticipated and it seemed the night slowed down just for them, allowing them time to recover a bit from the shock of the day.

Abby woke when a sliver of sunlight made its way over her face and she stretched sleepily – noting that while she felt a bit uncomfortable from sleeping in her work clothes, she was still mostly refreshed. David wasn’t next to her but she didn’t have to strain her imagination to know where he was, she could see him working. She watched him, she rarely got to see while he worked on a painting.

He wasn’t working on the one from last night, but a new one. It took her eyes a moment to focus enough to see it but once she did Abby felt a smile take hold of her lips. It showed Kevin smiling with his teammates, David was just beyond the wild crush of bodies as they raised their hands in victory. Even Andrew was there, the smile on his face was more amused than anything but he was still there, still part of the Foxes’ joy. Indistinct black uniforms were in the background, their posture screaming disbelief – Ravens losing for the first time since they had formed.

It was a wild challenge to the universe – the Foxes would beat the Ravens and David would be there for Kevin in whatever role Kevin would allow. Abby nodded to herself. That was what made David and the Foxes special, they knew what boundaries to respect, those related to trust and loyalty. But they also knew which ones to disregard or trample underfoot, and that was anything that said they couldn’t be what they wanted. David and Kevin would be alright, all of them would be in time. For now, David painted, channeling his ferocious belief in his team into a vibrant cascade of orange and white that broke through the heaviness of Evermore’s stadium.

She looked back at the one he’d begun last night. He’d moved Kevin off the pitch to stand at his side as they watched a team practice. It wasn’t a memory of Kevin as his assistant coach, Kevin was in practice gear too, but it was a promise for the future to keep building together.  She dozed off with a smile on her face, dreaming of David holding Kevin’s children one day and the two of them arguing furiously over racquets and footwork while toddlers drooled uncaringly, content in the knowledge that these loud voices weren’t aimed their way and the strength in those holding them was always to protect and love them. No, they didn’t need perfect, but what they’d get was about as close to it as they could manage.


End file.
